Harry Potter and the Raven's Ring
by KireiTheFlower
Summary: A mysterious black bird, a transfer student, and hidden abilities are only a few of the things that Harry will encounter in his sixth year at Hogwarts. What will Harry do when he meets the daughter of the woman who killed his godfather?
1. A Feathered Follower

**{--AUTHOR'S NOTE-----------------------------}**

So. I have wanted to write a Harry Potter fanfiction for a long time, but the question always is, about what? Where do I start? I'm sitting here right now typing off the top of my head, and have nothing but a vague idea of where this story is heading - but then again, I pretty much go about life with only a vague idea of where I'm heading. . I don't want to write about an alternate universe, I don't want to write about the characters being grown-up... so, since Rowling doesn't seem to be popping out another book any time soon, I'm going to take matters into my own hands! I'm going to start at the sixth year. And judging by my inability to write short stories, this will probably become another long fanfiction that I will forget, loose interest in, be distracted from, discontinue, find a year later and start up again. Sorry! That's how I am, and I hate it, but I guess I'm incorrigible. All the same, don't let my sad perserverance (and/or attention span) deter you from reading the fic. 

-Kirei 

P.S. still sitting; mind blank .... this may take a while. 

**{--CHAPTER ONE----------------------------------}**

Harry lay back on his bed, gazing blankly at the ceiling. Under any normal circumstances (if anything about his life could be considered "normal"), this would probably have been the best summer of his life. The Dursleys avoided him as much as possible, he recieved weekly letters from Ron and Hermione - even Dumbledore had gone so far as to occasionally inform him of the Order's "goings on". 

But these were not normal circumstances. Sirius was dead. And despite what Dumbledore had told him at the end of last school year, Harry couldn't help but get the sickening feeling that it was all his fault. If only he hadn't been so gullible... if only he'd listened to Hermione... at that thought a pang of anger stirred in his heart. Hermione! Why hadn't she stopped him?! ...She tried, he reminded himself. She did try; it's your fault, there's no use getting mad at her. It was because of him that Sirius was gone, and was never coming back. But wait... what was it that Luna had said, last year, about her mom? _"It's not like I'll never see her again."_ Harry shook his head. Luna believed in a lot of weird things. But she'd been right about the thestrels, hadn't she? Maybe he would see Sirius again... yes, he decided, he would. And that was that. He hopped off the bed and strode over to Hedwig's empty cage, still feeling the horrible loss of his godfather, but his heart was somewhat lightened. 

This was all too typical of Harry these days. His emotions shot up and down like a roller coaster, and being shut up in his room with no one but himself to argue with didn't help him much. Whenever he did get the urge to slip downstairs for meals or to watch the news, his pent-up feelings usually got let out at Dudley, to which Uncle Vernon would turn a violent shade of purple, but say nothing. He had not forgotten Mad-eye Moody's threat at the beginning of the summer. 

Harry arrived at the cage and was just about to refill Hedwig's empty water trough when the gorgeous snowy owl swooped in through the window and landed lightly atop his mop of black hair. She stuck out her leg elegantly, waiting for him to untie the letter attatched to it. 

"'Lo, Hedwig." Harry said as carefully removed the letter. She cooed in response, then settled into her cage. Harry opened the letter. It was a return one from Ron. 

> _Listen Harry, I know you really want to come to The Burrow, and Mum's real eager to have you, but Dumbledore won't allow it. He says you're safer with your aunt and uncle. And don't be thinking I've been having regular little chats with him, because I havent; in fact I haven't seen him all summer. I'm just passing along the message, so quit nagging me about it! Don't worry, soon we'll both be together on the Hogwarts Express - Fred and George have sent me a load of free candies from their shop, and I think you'll like 'em. Don't know how those two got so bloody clever... Oh, Hermione wants to know how you did on your O.W.L.s. She got excellent grades on all of hers, of course, and I only pretty much got Acceptables (except in Potions...), but thanks to you I did great in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sorry for the long letter. Can't wait to see you; don't kill yourself in the week that's left. -Ron_

Harry folded up the letter with a sigh and flopped back down on his bed. His grades were pretty much the same as Ron's; miraculously he had mangaged to scrape by every O.W.L. with a passing grade - maybe less than a scrape with Potions. Still, it satisfied him to think about the look on Snape's face when he realized that Harry had passed his class. Thoughts of tests, classes, and his future swam around in his head as the sky outside his window grew steadily darker. The thoughts transformed into the usual nightmares he had every night... the voices behind the veil... Sirius falling in slow motion... every inch of Harry's being wanting to somehow reach out and grab him... to save him... but everything ending up in nothing but despairing darkness... 

****

The last week of summer crawled along at a snail's pace, but Harry managed to get through it. Soon he found himself stuck to the seat of Uncle Vernon's leather-upholstered BMW, the hot sun sending unbearable blasts of heat through the window onto the side of his head. 

"Ruddy air conditioner must be broken," Vernon muttered under his breath while jabbing the AC button with a pudgy purple finger. Dudley sat opposite Harry leaning agianst the window, in an effort to keep his immense bulk as far away from the young wizard as possible. Aunt Petunia sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat, wringing her bony hands nervously. 

"So, you - you're sure that it's safe at that school, are you?" Pentunia stammered uncomfortably. Quickly, she added, "Because if I recieve one more of those - those _talking_ letters-" 

"Howlers," Harry supplied. 

"-If I recieve another one, I don't care what it says - you're out of the house for good!" She looked absolutely horrified at the thought of what result might come to her for such a banishment. 

Harry stared curiously at his aunt. Her voice was hard and cold enough, but somehow, maybe because of the way her eyes kept darting to her lap, he didn't think she really meant what she said. He remembered the look on her face after she recieved the Howler last summer, and the difinitiveness of her voice when she said that he would stay... 

The Dursleys were quiet for the rest of the drive, and Harry, not wishing to disturb the pleasant silence, amused himself by looking out the car window. A curious sight caught his eye. A large black bird sat on a branch of one of the trees lining the streets, completely oblivious to the busy babble of pedestrian passerby below. The bird looked rather out of place among the myriads of pidgeons that fluttered about London. As the car drove past the tree, the bird took flight and settled on the branch of another tree further up the road. Harry caught a glimmer of something shiny on it's leg. When they passed the bird again, he noticed that a small golden circlet dangled from one of the bird's legs like an anklet. To his further surprise, the bird took off once again and landed in another tree ahead of them. So it seemed to follow them for the rest of the journey, and when the trees eventually subsided it took to hopping from lamp post to lamp post. 

Harry sat back in his seat, puzzled. He knew this was no ordinary bird. He wondered if it was trying to get a letter to him, as if it were an owl. But he hadn't seen any letters attatched to its leg, only that odd circlet... Come to think of it, the poor thing didn't even fly normally - it only made short bursts of flight and quickley landed on something. It looked rather tired. Maybe its wings are clipped, he thought. But as the fowl took flew up again, he knew that it was not so; it's majestic black wings spread out regally, though in a spasmodic fashion. Maybe its hurt, Harry pondered, or maybe that circlet is weighing it down... but before he got a chance to observe the bird's leg closer, they arrived at King's Cross Station and it swooped out of sight. 

"We're here," Uncle Vernon barked, disengaging the keys and opening his door with a huff. He stalked around to the back of the car and unloaded Harry's trunk while Harry struggled out of the car with Hedwig's cage. He set it beside his things and went to get a trolley. Uncle Vernon helped him load his stuff onto it without a word, then turned about, stuffed himself back into his car, and started up the engine. Harry gave a polite little wave, but all his uncle did was nod curtly before driving off. 

With a sigh and a squawking Headwig, Harry rolled his trolley noisily toward the large brick pillar between platforms nine and ten. His fowl-filled thoughts were interrupted by a shout and a squeal behind him, and soon he found himself in the embrace of an excited, bushy-haired person. 

"Oh, Harrry, I'm so glad you're alright!" Hermione said breathlessly, releasing Harry from her hug and holding him at arm's length for examination. Behind her, Ron shrugged helplessly. She continued, "I know that Dumbledore said the safest place is with your aunt and uncle, but Ron and I were worried about you just the same, weren't we, Ron?" 

"So you two've been have fun together, I take it," Harry said in an unintentionally sardonic tone. 

"Wha-? No," Hermione stammered, "Well yes, I've been at Ron's place for the past couple of weeks, but we were spending too much time trying to get them to let you come that we didn't have time for fun. We really were worried about you Harry, especially because of what happened last yea-" 

Harry turned away as his friend's sentence fell. He had just managed to stop thinking about Sirius for a while, and he didn't need to be reminded of it again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione hang her head. "I'm sorry," she said softly. 

Ron cut in, "But she's right, you know, we didn't have much fun. We didn't even get to go anywhere except Diagon Alley - speaking of which, Mum got your books for you, as promised." He reached over to his trolley and picked up a stack of books tied neatly together with a piece of twine, complete with a little sack of coins on top. "She picked up some money for you at Gringotts. She still hasn't found out about the money you gave to Fred and George, though," he said with a ruefull grin, "they refuse to tell her where their funds came from." 

Harry smiled and remembered the mischievious Weasley twins. It just donned on him that they would not be attending Hogwarts this year. Ron seemed to have realized the same thing, and slumped his shoulders a bit. "I guess this year is going to be a bit duller without them, huh?" 

Hermione interrupted, "Listen, I'm sorry to break up a sentimental moment, but if we don't hurry, we'll miss the train." 

Harry and Ron nodded. Wordlessley, the trio of friends directed their trolleys at the big brick pillar, and walked toward it with a quick, determined pace. Soon they reached it and with a woosh, they disappeared among a crowd of disgruntled travelers.


	2. Old Friends and Strange News

**{--AUTHOR'S NOTE------------------------------}**

Ok, a review from the last chapter mentioned the cliché emphasis on Harry's mourning over the loss of Sirius, and they are absolutely right. I'll say right now that this fanfiction is NOT about Harry's reaction to Sirius's death, and I'll try to keep the weepiness to a minimum. However, I do think it is somewhat necessary; I mean it would be strange for Harry not to be upset that Sirius is gone. But that is not what this story, nor any single chapter, is about.  
  
Also, I apoligize if the first couple of chapters are kind of slow/boring and you're thinking "What does this have to do with the main summary?" I'm getting there, I promise!  
  
-Kirei

**{--CHAPTER TWO------------------------------}**

They emerged amid a noisy and colorful crowd of witches and wizards, hustling and bustling around the platform. Familiar sounds greeted their ears; the whizzes and blasts of wands emitting spells, the loud _crack!_ of people apparating and disapparating, the sqawks, hoots, caws and hisses of owls and other magical creatures. Everywhere children were hugging their parents and waving farewells as they boarded the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Harry espied some brilliant flashes of red hair scurrying toward him.  
  
_"Harry dear!"_ cried Mrs. Weasley, accompanied by Ginny, Fred, and George. "I'm so happy to see you. I'm glad Ron and Hermione managed to find you and give you your books before you had to load everything up-" without further ado, she wrapped him in a huge embrace. Ron rolled his eyes; Fred and George laughed.  
  
"I think Mum likes you better than us," Fred chuckled as Mrs. Weasley finally released Harry.  
  
"Might as well be an honorary Weasly," George said, "here, have a Do Drop- It'll turn your hair red!" He stuffed a pile of sticky orange candies into Harry's hand as Mrs. Weasly glared disapprovingly. The twins winked.  
  
"Oy, Harry, Ron! Over here, Dean!" Two boys rushed toward the group; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. They immediately began slapping Harry and Ron on the back, conversing excitedly about their summer adventures and the upcoming year at Hogwarts. Harry smiled and nodded despondantly, his thoughts wandering elsewhere, until he felt something soft brush his cheek.  
  
"Wha?" Harry said, turning.  
  
"Sorry," replied a soft, deep voice. Harry cocked his head to get a better look at the speaker. It was a tall, thin girl with long, jet-black hair that fell in wisps about her face and shoulders. She stared at him unflinchingly with piercing black eyes. "I'm sorry for bumping into you."  
  
"No no," Harry stammered, "It's not, I just, something brushed by me-" but the girl was already gone.  
  
"What're you doing standing there gaping?" came Ron's voice behind him, snapping him back to reality. "Everyone else has already boarded the train! Aw, gimme that," he wrested Harry's trolley from him and rolled it hurriedly towards the Express. Harry followed him, blinking dazedly.  
  
"Where are your mum and Fred and George?"  
  
"They already left - didn't you hear them say goodbye?"  
  
Harry wrinkled his brow. "Oh... who was that?" he asked, catching up beside Ron.  
  
His friend replied in annoyance, "Who was who?"  
  
"That girl. I've never seen her before."  
  
"What girl?"  
  
"The black-haired one!"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"The girl!"  
  
"Harry!" Ron shouted in exasperation, "There are tons of girls at Hogwarts! You can't expect to know them all! C'mon, Ginny's saved us a seat."  
  
Harry fell silent as they finally clambered onto the train and fought their way down the croweded aisles. It was true; there were hundreds of girls at Hogwarts. But that one had looked close to his own age - surely he would have seen her before. He shook his head. Why was he wondering about this? He wasn't... interested in the girl, was he? She had come off rather cold, just disappearing on him like that. And what about Cho? This thought was met with yet more confusion. He and Cho Chang hadn't left Hogwarts on the best of terms last year. Oddly enough though, he didn't feel too upset over this.  
  
"Here we are," Ron said, sliding open a door to a compartment. Chatting amiably inside were their friends Ginny, Hermione, Neville, and the strange Luna Lovegood - bottlecap necklace, radish earrings and all.   
  
"Hello, Harry," Luna said in her breathy voice. The others turned, smiling, and scooted together to make room for Ron and Harry. It wasn't easy, what with the added presence of Neville's frog, Trevor, Crookshanks - Hermione's cat, and Hedwig. But finally they all managed to settle in.  
  
They were silent for a few moments. All thoughts were no doubtedly reflecting on last year's adventure - the kind of adventure that could bring such a rag-tag group together. Neville broke finally broke the silence. "So Harry, are we still going to have DA meetings this year?"  
  
"That depends on our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I suppose," Harry said thoughtfully, wondering for the first time what their new teacher would be like.  
  
"I suspect it will be a good one," Hermione voiced knowledgably, "Since Dumbledore's back in charge."  
  
"Dumbledore was in charge when he hired Quirrel and Lockhart, wasn't he?" Ron muttered. They all shifted uncomfortably. Sometimes Harry wondered about that...  
  
"I wonder who the new exchange student will be," breathed Luna, entirely off-subject. Ron, Harry, Neville, Ginny and Hermione all stared at her with blank expressions. "What exchange student?" they said in unison.  
  
"I don't know..." Luna replied with an air of maddening disconcern. But they were prevented from questioning her further when the compartment door slid loudly open. They found themself staring at a pointed face topped with white-blond hair.  
  
"What's this, a Hogwarts Heroes gathering?" the face sneered, "So sorry to interrupt - I was disturbed by the stench of mudblood and Weasly, and had to find out where it was coming from."  
  
"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron growled, clenching his fist, as Luna leaned towards him to see if he did in fact have an odor.  
  
Harry slouched back in his seat, looking nonplussed. "Not scared are you, Malfoy? I hear your Daddy's in a bit of hot water, eh?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron perked up, "Dad tells me he hasn't seen him around the Ministry for quite a while now."  
  
Malfoy's sneer fell off his face, which quickly turned pallid. "You'll get it for what you did, Potter. Trust me, he won't let it sit lightly."  
  
"Oh, on first terms with Voldemort, are we now?" Ron said proudly, apparently quite pleased with his daring at mentioning the name.  
  
Malfoy hissed angrily. "Don't speak about what half-wits like you can't understand." Then, turning to Harry, he added, "I don't suppose you've heard about the transfer student, Potter. You don't usually pick up on much news, do you? Anyway, I'm sure she'll be... elated to meet you." With a nasty grin, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Everyone then glared at Luna expectantly. "What?" she asked innocently.

**-{o}-{o}-{o}-**

****  
With the hissing of steam and squeaking of brakes, the Hogwarts Express finally came to a stop on the pristine Hogwarts grounds. Harry and his friends could see the magestic castle sitting regally atop its hill, just beyond the lake; it's many towers and turrets standing tall and proud in the dusky evening sky. All around them compartment doors slid open and the now black-robed students emerged, yawning and stretching their legs. One by one the six companions squeezed themselves out of their compartment; Harry struggling along with Hedwig in her cage.  
  
Harry was glad to step off the stuffy train into the nice fresh air. He gazed fondly at the familiar surroundings until his view was obscured by a large, many-pocketed coat. Harry had to strain his head up to look at the grinning face of Rubeus Hagrid.  
  
"Good ta see yeh, 'arry," Hagrid said, giving him a clap on the back that nearly knocked his breath out.   
  
"Good - to see - you too -" Harry gasped, smiling nonetheless.  
  
"Hagrid!" Hermione sqealed, now emerging from the train with a squirming Crookshanks. Ron followed behind her, folding his arms behind his head and smiling at their large friend.  
  
"Ron! 'ermione!"  
  
"So who's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Ginny asked Hagrid curiously, appearing from behind Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Ah, yeh know I can't tell yeh tha'" Hagrid shook his head in mock reprove. "Yeh'll have ta wait 'till the feast - speaking of which, I halfta get the firs' years across the lake. Firs' years! Firs' years!" he called, turning from them and striding toward the boats lined up along the lakeshore.  
  
"It was a nice try," Ron said appreciatively to his sister. "He usually lets things like that slip."  
  
"Oh well," Ginny shrugged, "We'd better find a carriage before they all get filled up."  
  
Regrouping with Luna and Neville, the friends managed to secure an unoccupied carriage. Harry stopped to look thoughtfully upon the the thestrels that were hitched to the front of it. Neville and Luna stopped beside him.  
  
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Luna said breathlessly.  
  
"In a morbid, reptilian sort of way, yes," Neville retorted.   
Ron hopped out of the carriage. "Get in, you three!" he said, struggling to pull his trunk out with him.  
  
"What're you doing?" Harry asked.  
  
"Not enough room for everone. Said I'd find a differen't carriage." Ron grunted, and staggered off with the heavy trunk.  
  
Harry frowned, knowing full well that each carriage seated six. But when he finally boarded after Luna and Neville, he discovered why there wasn't enough room. Sitting directly across from him was the thin, black-haired girl, staring at him again with those eerily familiar eyes. Hermione, Ginny, and Neville looked questioningly from the girl to Harry. Luna was fidgeting with her bottlecap necklace.  
  
"Uh, hello," Harry said. 


	3. A Hostile Identity

**(--CHAPTER THREE------------------------------)**

The girl didn't reply. Harry wondered if she wasn't in a trance, or under the Imperius curse, the way she stared fixedly at him through those dark, mysterious eyes as if he was the only person – no, the only _thing_ in a void of nothingness. He felt as if she stared at him much longer, her eyes would bore holes into his face. It was a rather unpleasant feeling.

Suddenly he snapped. "Hey, would you mind not staring at me? If you've got a problem, just say it already!"

The girl said nothing, but broke her gaze and turned instead to stare out the window. The small glass pane fogged and cleared in rhythm with her breath. Harry felt cold; he realized his hand was shaking. There was something about this girl… something dark and unwholesome, that set his hair on end and filled his mind with uncertainty. Someone grasped his hand. Hermione. Without looking at her, he squeezed her hand in thanks. It was nice to know someone was there for him in this cold, hard world…

"Harry, you're hurting me!"

Harry swung his head around to find himself eye-to-eye with Luna. She wore a pained but puzzled expression. Shocked, he snatched his hand away as his face turned beet red. He'd thought it was Hermione. How embarrassing.

After his pulse settled a bit, he directed his gaze out his window. They were almost at the front gate; he could see the lights of the first years' little boats off in the distance. The gentle sound of the lake's waters lapping against the shore wafted to his ears, and happy thoughts of food and laughter began to circulate in his mind. Hogwarts had that effect; no matter what was going on out there in the wizarding world, nearly nothing could penetrate the feeling of safety that seemed to be draped over the school like a warm, cozy blanket. But someone could. Voldemort. Even in amid the pleasant things floating around in Harry's head, Voldemort was always in the back; scratching, clawing at his conscience, seeking to inject fear and anxiety into every happy moment. But so long as he was at Hogwarts, under the care and keeping of Dumbledore, that destructive thought of Voldemort was a least a little more quiescent.

Harry felt the back of his neck prickle. She was staring at him again. He shot her an ugly look as she quickly withdrew and looked away, long wisps of hair swinging to cover the side of her face. Harry wondered what was going on in her black-haired head. He wished at the moment that he had worked harder in Occlumency. But soon that wish was dashed from his mind as the carriage came to a jolting stop. Quietly, almost reverently, the six teens struggled out. No one had spoken throughout the usually short trip, which under the circumstances had seemed to last an age.

"In here, hurry up!" came the brisk voice of Professor Minerva McGonagall. Moving like a mass of disgruntled and crowded ants, the students pushed their way through the majestic front doors and into the giant entrance room of the castle. Shouts and squeals reverberated off the hard stone walls and vaulted ceiling as long-departed friends (and enemies) met up again at last.

At the direction of Professor McGonagall, the returning students left their luggage along the walls and filed their way up the grand staircase. Harry smiled inwardly as he noted Hermione's pursed lips and obvious disapproval. No doubt she was thinking about how the house elves would have to move all the belongings up to the dormitories.

The comforting cheeriness of Hogwarts is present in nearly all of the castle, (except maybe the dungeons) but the true spirit of the wizarding school didn't fully hit Harry until he entered the Great Hall. And when it did, it hit him full blast – in a large, decorated mass of excitement. The four house tables were lavishly dressed; tablecloths of each house's color, rich golden dining ware that glinted in the candlelight, napkins artfully folded in the shape of the house animals, crystal goblets that refracted every bit of light and shot it back in the form of brilliant little rainbows… The high, enchanted ceiling now portrayed a calm, starry sky that seemed to shimmer in the heat from the countless number of floating candles. Peeves the poltergeist was there too, trying to bowl the candles over with one of Professor Trelawney's crystal balls.

Before Harry new it, he was seated at the red and gold-clothed table among his fellow Gryffindors. Everyone around him was chatting happily and clapping each other on the back, but all he could do was stare around and smile, all his troubles being momentarily wiped from his mind. A few people, those at the Gryffindor table and from other houses, shot nervous glances over at him or whispered behind their hands, but generally he was met with respect and admiration. He was no longer Harry the insane, lonely orphan, but Harry the hero; Harry who alerted the wizarding world to Voldemort's return, who all along had been telling the truth. He felt he very much deserved this long-awaited recognition.

In the midst of all the excitement, Harry had temporarily forgotten about the mysterious, black-haired girl. But as Headmaster Dumbledore rose at the head table and the noise died down around him, her piercing gaze returned in his mind. He looked around. Where had she gone? Was she outside in the entrance hall? Could she possibly be a first year, and was waiting with the others to be sorted? No, she couldn't be – she had ridden in the carriage, not in the boats. Where was she?

His thoughts were interrupted as Dumbledore began to speak.

"My dear returning students! I know that you are eager to feast, and the first years outside the hall are eager to be sorted, but let me take this time now to elaborate on a rather, well, _unusual_ occurrence that will be taking place tonight."

Here the headmaster paused for effect, then continued:

"It does not happen often that a transferring occurs between wizarding schools, and has not happened in a long time, but tonight I am pleased to announce that Hogwarts will be gaining a new student! Entering one's 6th year in a different school, I'm sure it will be a odd change, but I trust all of you to make it a comfortable and easy one. We do not want our new student to feel unwelcome."

Dumbledore paused again, this time waiting for the whispering to die out; the whispering that had seeped its way into the hall while he was speaking. The students, noting his impatient silence, shut their mouths and waited for him to go on.

"Well. That's about it! Let the sorting of all the new students begin!" He bowed back into his high-backed chair as the huge doors opened and Professor McGonagall entered, followed by a line of very nervous-looking first years. But right behind the Professor, standing taller than the rest, was the black-haired girl.

So, Harry thought. She was the transfer student. Must be. He had suspected it ever since the carriage ride, remembering what Luna had said, and had been even more convinced by Dumbledore's words, but now his suspicions were confirmed. Though what was it that Malfoy had said? Something about her wanting to meet him. What could he mean? Was she someone important? The questions ricochet around in his head as the Sorting Hat began its song:

"_Hello to all, students, teachers, and Friends  
__I welcome you each to Hogwarts again  
__Though dark broods the evil outside our fair halls,  
__Tonight we make merry; A new school year calls!_

_My songs, I admit, have been dreary of late  
__As the world seems to have a big mess on its plate  
__But tonight, my dear Friends, jovial I remain,  
__For on your golden platters a feast is ordained!_

_Formerly, each House I'd distinguish  
__But now I say segregation is anguish!  
__For this year occurs something unprecedented:  
__The unity of two Rivals cemented!_

_Cryptic though my words now may be,  
__Soon they'll be clear; just wait and you'll see  
__Make note! Take heed! For out of the dark  
__Unexpected it comes, Contrasting the lark_

_But enough now! I see that your eyes are glazed over  
__You wish I'd shut up and do you a favor  
__Fine then, new Friends, join the ranks!  
__An exciting new year for you each now awaits!"_

The song was followed by much puzzlement among the students, Harry included. Previously the hat's messages had been pretty clear. Last year it preached unity—a recurring theme, obviously, but what was this nonsense about larks and rivals? Even Dumbledore was hand-to-chin, contemplating.

"Adams, Bridget!" Professor McGonagall's thin voice ruptured Harry's thoughts. He watched a small curly-headed girl approach the Hat as the sorting begain.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" bellowed the ancient headgear shortly after it was placed upon Bridget's head. There was much clapping as the girl scuttled timidly toward the yellow-adorned table.

"Appleby, Adam!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Asberg, Boris!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" (Much cheering from Harry's table)

"Atul, Jazrel!"

"SLYTHERIN!" (Much booing from Harry's table)

And so it continued. The applause kept up a steady enthusiasm until the students, growing bored and impatient, dropped off a bit as McGonagall dove into the L's.

"Lemmings, Rodney!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Feeble clapping.

"Lestrange, Liana!"

Silence.

The loud clatter of golden dishes falling.

"Neville! Stop!" hissed Hermione, struggling to restrain the larger boy who had knocked over his plate in an attempt to break free.

Harry felt his heart grow cold. This girl… no, she couldn't be… Dumbledore wouldn't allow it… He saw Neville's flushed face recede to a pallid color, tears of frustration springing from his eyes. But Harry felt no emotion. He still couldn't grasp it, couldn't grasp the idea that this girl could possibly be a relative—a daughter, even—of his godfather's murderer; the torturer of Neville's parents.

He watched her approach the Sorting Hat. There was no way. No way this girl was the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange.

**-(o)-(o)-(o)- **


End file.
